


Scales Slowly Tipping

by Sovin



Series: A Careful Kind of Balance [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crying, Injury, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Non-Sexual Bondage, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual Kink, Non-Sexual Submission, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rope Bondage, Safeword Use, Scene Gone Wrong, Subdrop, dom!grantaire, post-scene debrief, sort of, sub!enjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:23:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2080191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sovin/pseuds/Sovin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel/companion piece to The Act of Balancing. No matter how carefully they negotiate and how hard they try, the paths to trust and getting to know someone all over again are laid out with stumbling blocks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The usual disclaimer applies.
> 
> I still don't know how these things happen sometimes, but I really wanted a chance to come back to this 'verse and write about some of the problems they have in working out this relationships. Heavy on the comfort and negotiation, of course.
> 
> This chapter takes place between chapters two and three of [The Act of Balancing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1231069/chapters/2523967), before they get together, and takes a look at the incident mentioned in chapter three. I.E., the time Enjolras underestimated an injury and had to safeword. Nothing too graphic follows, but Grantaire does have to relocate his shoulder, so. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and please do feel free to come chat with me on [tumblr](http://www.sovinly.tumblr.com).

Objectively, Enjolras knew that he should probably give himself more time to recuperate and rest. But two weeks after a rally gone badly, his bruises had faded into more or less nothing, and he was _restless_ , still agitated and frustrated by the way things had gone. His shoulder was hardly bothering him, though, little more than a faint ache, and the swelling had gone entirely, and that had to be good enough because he felt like he was running circles in his brain.

He hated the way the feeling of fruitlessness and failure dug into him, made him feel wild and out of control, and it just set his teeth on edge. He gave in and emailed Grantaire. It had taken only a little more than their usual negotiation, and Enjolras felt some of the weight easing from his shoulders already, blocking time out of his schedule just for this.

That same fidgety energy that had been itching at his bones felt productive again the day they’d agreed to meet, Enjolras' muscles practically singing with it as he slowly stretched out, carefully testing his range of motion and limits and deciding, after cautious thought, that it was close enough to normal to not be a danger, even if he did favor his right hand a little as he packed his usual bag before slipping out the door.

When he reached the end of his walk, Grantaire was waiting for him outside, finishing off a cigarette and grinding it out as Enjolras approached. They exchanged greetings, quiet and friendly, before they started up the stairs, and Enjolras would be lying if he said that he didn't prefer this to their previously stilted and awkward interactions.

"You look tense," Grantaire told him with an arch of a brow, letting them into his flat and slipping off his shoes by the door, disorderly curls free of a hat for once and sticking up at occasional odd angles.

Enjolras let out a soft huff of a laugh, one side of his mouth curling in dry amusement as he nudged his own shoes off his feet and out of the way. "Hence the email. I've been worked up."

Grantaire turned evaluating eyes on him, that curious blend of intent, serious, and in control that made Enjolras want to shiver inexplicably under the weight. Then, after a moment, he smiled back wryly. "Well, then I'm happy to wind you down. Do you need anything first?"

"No, I'm set," Enjolras replied, and, because he knew it was coming, added, "Green, yellow, and red for status reports, red's the safeword, as is safeword itself, and if I can't speak for whatever reason, snapping my fingers will do."

"No need to sound so bored." Grantaire's tone was dry and there was a mild rebuke there, which Enjolras might have resented more if he hadn't appreciated how thorough and cautious the other man was. His eyes flicked over Enjolras once more before he nodded. "Right. Go into the studio and kneel down."

Enjolras lowered his eyes as he nodded, feet padding quietly as he walked back to Grantaire's warm, open studio, unsure whether or not he was imagining the weight of Grantaire's gaze as he did. Pushing back against the unsettled thoughts and the part of himself that was demanding he hold everything up on tight reins, Enjolras folded himself down gracefully, his head bent and his hands resting placidly on his thighs.

Grantaire's hand ghosted over Enjolras' hair, and he eased a little under even just that brief touch and the murmur of praise, watching from under his eyelashes as Grantaire picked up soft looking rope, starting to unwind it from its bundle.

"We'll go a little easy on the rope, today," he said, soft and steady with an underlying firmness, settling crosslegged on the floor beside Enjolras, two fingers just tapping his spine. "Down on your front, keep your knees together and bend your legs up, that's a good boy."

Not even bristling at the words, only calming, Enjolras allowed his shoulders to relax as he obeyed with another nod, taking a moment to shift into the requested position, arms loose and lax by his sides. Talking, explaining each step, Grantaire bound his ankles together, but Enjolras already felt half lost to the soft brush of the rope against his skin.

He only realized how lulled he'd been when Grantaire took his arms and guided them behind his back, not enough to pull or stress, and he relaxed into it again, comforted by the seemingly effortless, confident way Grantaire looped the cord.

"There won't be more than this," Grantaire murmured, testing to make sure there was room for circulation and brushing a soothing touch to Enjolras' forearm before he started to wrap the rope back down to the ties around his ankles, looping them to create a line of tension, fingers weaving the rope nimbly. "An exercise in self control for you. I want you to hold the tension for me, can you do that?"

"I can, yes," Enjolras replied, turning his head and resting his cheek against the floor when Grantaire tipped his head that way with a slight touch. There wasn't a burn, yet, but there would be if he held this long enough, and it tugged so lightly at his muscles that he felt as utterly controlled as if he were heavily tied down - it would be a nice feeling, being held down tightly as though under a net of ropes, pinned and pressed with no danger of disobedience or rebellion, and he would have to mention that sometime.

He earned a smile for the easiness of his submission, and Grantaire only had to nudge Enjolras' heels a little in correction, look approving as he studied him, then focusing on his face attentively. "Status report?"

"Green," he breathed, feeling the start of warmth at the way Grantaire's smile lightened even further and the feel of fingers combing briefly through his curls as well as the constant pressure of the rope against his skin, curious when it was all on exposed joints, not dulled by clothing.

"Good. Now, don't move, and breathe on my count." Grantaire shifted over slightly, and Enjolras could see the curves of his legs even when he lowered his eyes again.

They slid shut soon enough, casting him in a fragile darkness as he matched his breaths to the quiet, insistent orders, air dragging in and out of him like the ebb and flow of the tide, pulling him under and under and under, more of a current than a riptide. It was soothing, controlled, everything falling away except the necessity of breathing when he was told, of falling into place under the quiet press of the words, of keeping his knees bent at the right angle, quick to correct himself whenever the line started to slacken and ease the soft pull of it against his wrists.

And then he felt his legs dip again, and startled a little, enough to overcorrect and kick them back into place. Too hard. He'd pushed too hard and too far and it jerked the rope taught and _yanked_ and Enjolras could feel his shoulder slip free and it _hurt_.

"Red," he rasped, forcing the word out through his teeth, shoulder screaming in agony and overriding everything and he didn't care he needed to get out, get out, get _out_ and make it _stop_ , finding himself babbling. "Shit, fuck, _red_."

But Grantaire was already moving, had started moving nearly before Enjolras had started to speak, seizing a knife and slashing the tension line with a swift motion, surprisingly careful even as he was quick about stripping the ropes from Enjolras' limbs. His voice, when he spoke, was even and his eyes were focused, though his face was ashen. "What hurts, Enjolras? I need to you to tell me."

"Shoulder," he hissed, or maybe it was more of a whimper, but it _hurt_.

"Okay, okay," he murmured, soothing, pulling and cutting away the last of the bindings, helping Enjolras up into a sitting position and gently sliding his fingers over Enjolras' right shoulder to test it, not applying more than the barest pressure. It _burned_ when Enjolras tried to move it, limp at his side.

He gritted his teeth hard, feeling his mouth pull back in a snarl and face go bloodless white, simultaneously wanting to snatch his arm to his chest to protect it and wanting never to move it again, tense and doing his best to hold still while Grantaire looked him over.

"Shit," Grantaire muttered, but he met Enjolras' eyes steadily. "Okay, your shoulder is partially dislocated, but the damage doesn't feel too bad. Will you let me reset it?"

Tightly, Enjolras nodded, too much nausea pooled in his stomach to attempt to speak. He tried to bite back sounds as Grantaire moved his arm to rest against his stomach, elbow at a ninety degree angle, and even with the pain and panic clouding his mind, he curled his fingers into a fist when prompted. It hurt. It hurt so deeply as Grantaire rotated his arm out, and then, suddenly, Enjolras felt things grind and snap back into place, the sickening pain relieved in an instant, and he let out a soft exhalation.

Grantaire guided his forearm back to lay against his stomach with a soft instruction to hold it there, and Enjolras let himself slump forward, pressing his forehead against Grantaire’s shoulder and closing his eyes tightly. A little of the tension bled away when Grantaire rested a careful hand on the back of Enjolras’ head with a comforting pressure.

“Will you be okay here for a minute if I get you something for the pain?” Grantaire asked after a few minutes, smoothing down Enjolras’ hair.

Enjolras nodded and then forced himself to speak, voice hoarse. “Yes.”

“I’ll be right back,” Grantaire assured, draping the familiar soft fleece blanket around Enjolras’ shoulders before he rose, disappearing down the hall. True to his word, he was back in under a minute, opening Enjolras’ water bottle after measuring out the correct dosage of pain medication. “Here. Take these, they’ll help.”

Still a little out of it, Enjolras accepted the pills, following them with a few deep pulls of water, sighing softly as he set it back down shakily. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Grantaire’s face creased in a frown, and he just touched Enjolras’ good shoulder, more of a reminder of presence than anything else. “You need to tell me what happened. Can you do that right now?”

“Of course I can,” Enjolras snapped, suddenly waspish, but looked away immediately, ashamed. He took a bracing breath and looked back up, keeping his left arm tucked against him as he folded his legs, watching Grantaire do the same. “I hurt my shoulder at the rally a few weeks ago. It was mostly healed, but I panicked and kicked my legs back too hard.”

Grantaire stared at him a moment, then scrubbed a hand through his curls, letting out a sharp breath. “Okay, no, we need to talk about this. Enjolras, you have to tell me these things. If you had told me, I would have picked something the fuck else that wouldn’t have stressed your shoulder. You could have seriously injured yourself, and if we are going to do this, you have to be honest with me about your injuries and your needs so that I can make informed decisions. This is a big deal.”

Now that Enjolras had stopped and the immediate distress had passed, he could see the fear and panic crowding Grantaire’s eyes and drawing his mouth tight, the faint shake of his hands, and he felt horribly guilty, knots of it twisting in his stomach. “You’re right. You are absolutely right. I’m so sorry.”

And now there was a faint concern there, Grantaire reaching out to tap Enjolras’ chin back up, though he hadn’t realized he’d even ducked his head. “I know. We can have the big discussion later, but right now… Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Enjolras said, and then, with surprising tentativeness, added, “I… understand if you’re mad. I _am_ sorry.”

“I’m upset,” Grantaire replied, tense, but he sighed, “and we’ll talk about it later, but right now your well-being is more important and it’s not going to stop me from making sure you’re okay. Can I touch you?”

Enjolras nodded after a moment, anxious nervousness fading as Grantaire pulled him against his chest, fingers sliding carefully through his curls, warm and solid and steady. He sighed, tired and a little shaky as the adrenaline wore off and the medication started to kick in a little.

“Let’s get you on the couch, and something to eat and some ice for your shoulder, okay?” Grantaire’s voice was quiet and soothing, and his hand traced the line of Enjolras’ spine, repetitive and coaxing. He nodded again, staying silent as Grantaire maneuvered him to his feet.

Normally, Enjolras would pull away, but he was so fatigued, still driftless and ungrounded, swimming in some massive sea of disorientation and the sudden wash of fright and agony, and so he leaned against Grantaire’s side, letting him take some of Enjolras’ weight as they walked slowly down the hall.

Seated, finally, on the couch, Enjolras absently lifted his hand to probe his injured shoulder, a ghostly echo of the tight-throated distress seizing for a moment before he winced at the pain and settled back again. He listened to the sounds of Grantaire bustling in the kitchen, too tired and too familiar now to protest that this was too much and too intimate, because he still felt that leftover hint of subspace as it bumped up against the tearing guilt and residual panic.

But when Grantaire walked out, his eyes softened in an instant, and he shifted to free a hand, running his fingers through Enjolras’ hair again, now free of its ponytail, pressing a tea towel wrapped bag of ice against his sore shoulder with the other. “Do you want me to stay for a minute?”

“No, it’s alright, you can finish.” Enjolras grimaced, leaning languidly into the smooth motion of Grantaire’s petting. “I’m sorry, I think I’m still coming up, is all.”

“No apologies for that.” There was a pause where Grantaire hummed consideringly, continuing his attention as he evaluated Enjolras for any signs of distress or impending drop before he seemed to come to a decision and pulled his hand away. “Alright. I’ll just be another few minutes.”

Enjolras nodded, curling a little tighter into the blanket as Grantaire returned to the kitchen, resting his chin against his knees, only shifting when the other man returned with food, thankfully something light and easy enough to eat with one hand. It was fairly quiet for them, only the faint radio running under their silence.

Eventually giving up on eating, Enjolras shifted a little closer to Grantaire, uncomplaining and a little relieved when Grantaire pressed his thigh against Enjolras’, careful not to jostle, just enough of a touch to be a reminder, and he felt a little pathetically grateful for it.

“Grantaire?” he asked when he’d settled somewhat more, feeling that much more solid and secure.

“Yeah?” He glanced down at Enjolras, the subtle worry creasing his forehead again.

“I know you don’t want to have the full conversation now, and I don’t think I’m ready to either,” he started, guilt still prickling under his skin but wanting to say something, to reassure. “I just… wanted to tell you that I know I should have been honest from the start. I broke your trust and took a foolish, dangerous risk, and I’m sorry. Also, thank you for handling this all so well.”

Grantaire’s face was stony for a moment, but he softened, and he looked so tired, so anxious, so wrung out, but also gentle, something almost tender to his touch when he brushed Enjolras’ hair from his face. “I think it’s something that we can work out. When you’ve had a chance to recover a little, we need to renegotiate about what, if anything, we’ll do until you’re fully healed up. I want to trust you to be upfront about it, but I need to make sure that nothing we do will make it worse, so we need to talk about what we can and can’t do safely. I also really, really don’t want to see you get upset enough that you feel like you have to lie to me in order to get some help calming down. So, yeah, a lot of discussion.”

“Yes.” There wasn’t a need to argue, because Grantaire was _right_ , and Enjolras wanted to fix this, make sure this didn’t happen again, and not just because his shoulder was sore and protesting, but because he never wanted to see that distress or that hurt on Grantaire’s face again, or carry the heavy weight of knowing (and he had known) that he should have disclosed the injury from the beginning. “We do need to negotiate it. Should I call you when I’ve rested a bit and am off the stronger painkillers, or would you prefer text?”

“Give me a call and come over,” Grantaire said, with a hint of his usual teasing even as he straightened the blanket around Enjolras’ shoulders and scootched away a little, picking up on the unspoken cue to pull back and stop touching. “We can talk here, and then put it in writing after if we need to. Feeling better?”

“Much,” Enjolras admitted, something agitated and uneasy relaxing now that there was a plan, something settled and set and doable. “Thank you.”

Grantaire grinned, something in his face lifting and lightening as well. “Of course. You’re looking better. Ready to head home, or would you like to stay and put on a film or something?”

Enjolras wavered a moment, but he still felt shaken and clingy, and it wasn’t a hard guess that Grantaire probably still was too. “The latter, if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he reassured, cheerful and good-natured, hand brushing Enjolras’ knee as he stood to clear their plates and put something on. He also fetched a bottle of water and some more ice, Enjolras hissing a little when he accepted it and pressed it to his shoulder but feeling the pain dull a bit.

That seemed to settle Grantaire a little as he smiled, dropping back down on the couch and slowly coaxing Enjolras into a light conversation on the film, lessening some of the tension and awkwardness still lingering sharply in the air. It petered off eventually, though, leaving them both silent. The narration was light and lulling, and Enjolras found himself trying to swallow back a yawn.

The pain in his shoulder was a dull buzz, not quite so present, finally drowned out by the medication Grantaire had given him. It just also left him feeling drowsy and a little light-headed, blinking a few times as he tried to keep himself awake. But that only made him yawn again, hiding it behind his hand, eyelids feeling leaden as they slipped shut sluggishly.

Enjolras would have sworn he was feeling better, enough to lie back against the couch, but he found himself tilting the other way, head feeling dull and cottony as he glanced up at Grantaire, suddenly wanting nothing more than reassurance and comfort, the electric current of fear still running under his skin. “I don’t think I’m able to stay awake.”

“Painkillers knocking you out?” Grantaire asked, mouth twitching up at the corner when Enjolras nodded. “Go on and take a nap. Would you like me to let you be or stay?”

“Stay, if it’s not a problem,” he said, after a moment, feeling like it took effort for the words to shape themselves on his tongue, against his teeth.

That earned a soft huff. “Of course it’s not, Enjolras. I’ll stay as long as you need, alright?”

He nodded, carefully lowering himself down to rest his head on Grantaire’s thigh, right arm still carefully cradled against his stomach. Grantaire tugged a knit blanket from the back of the couch, snapping it open in the air and letting it fall over Enjolras, tweaking it straight before smoothing back a few stray blond curls, touch indescribably gentle.

Enjolras wondered, vaguely, if he would ever cease to be surprised by the tenderness Grantaire was capable of. Maybe surprise was the wrong word, made it sound like he couldn’t believe it. Amazed, maybe, quietly astounded that he’d been so wrong and that someone could be so quietly warm, so careful with Enjolras without acting like he was fragile. That was better.

“Thank you,” Enjolras murmured, reaching up with his hand to touch Grantaire’s knee, already feeling drifty and drowsy like he was half asleep, giving up on keeping his eyes open.

“It’s okay. Get some rest, Enjolras,” Grantaire said just as quietly, carefully running his fingers through Enjolras’ hair, touch calming and consoling. He sounded fond, and it was soothing, reassuring.

He sighed, nuzzling a little in spite of himself, just letting himself breath in and out to the dull murmur of the television, lulled by that and the drag of Grantaire’s hand in his hair, not entirely sure when he started to fall asleep but feeling soft, and warm, and settled, and safe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras isn't the only one who is tripped up, sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual disclaimer!
> 
> This chapter takes place about a month after The Act of Balancing in its entirety. Features more safeword use, from R this time, but nothing that really needs a warning.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the amazing response - the comments and likes and kudos really made my week and I've appreciated them so much. Really, they're so motivating, and you all are so nice! So thank you. 
> 
> As always, hit me up on [tumblr](http://www.sovinly.tumblr.com) if you want to say hi or ask questions!

Things had been going splendidly, easily, almost, for weeks. It was easy to talk with Grantaire, to be earnest and forthright in speech without worrying about being too blunt, and it helped to avoid all the little pitfalls Enjolras usually associated with his failed and fraught attempts at dating.

Maybe that was what set Enjolras' teeth a little on edge when he walked into Grantaire's apartment. He couldn't quite place his finger on what it was, but something felt _off_ , not quite right, and it made him antsy. Or maybe he already was antsy, stress and agitation built up in his bones and his blood, and that was all.

Whatever it was, it faded when Grantaire smiled at him, feet bare and dressed down and comfortable, holding himself with his usual easy grace, and Enjolras almost would have kissed him, if he hadn't been so wary of letting these things mix and slide together. "Ready, Enjolras?"

"I am," he agreed, bag going next to the door and shoes set off to the side. It was one of the little things that had surprised him about Grantaire, the way he kept his foyer so neat and tidy, when so often his spaces were graced with a light dusting of clutter. He reached up, checking his tight braid to make sure it would stay in place, then nodded. "Whenever you are."

Then, for good measure, he listed off their safewords and safety precautions, because he knew the question would be coming and it was second nature by now, so deeply ingrained he didn’t think he’d ever forget them.

Grantaire smiled again, crooking a finger, turning and walking away without glancing back to see if Enjolras would be following him. He was, of course he was, but it still got to Enjolras like nothing else, the unspoken demand and expectation of obedience. The unquestioned belief that Enjolras could understand and would obey without delay.

He could already feel the buzz of his thoughts quiet and calm, the lightest touch of Grantaire's fingers to his shoulder enough to have him kneeling down on the floor of the studio, the pale light from the high windows caressing the line of his spine. The other man wasn't so picky about positions, as long as he was kneeling, and Enjolras folded his hands behind his back, bowing his head and glancing up as best he could.

"Always so ready to listen. I approve. Do you want to keep your eyes on me, today?" Grantaire asked, his fingers so softly tipping Enjolras' face up towards him, smiling when Enjolras nodded and smoothing his thumb over his cheek. "Alright. You may, until I move behind you. Hands out, wrists parallel for me."

The request was adamant, undeniable, and Enjolras could do that easily, eyes trained on Grantaire as he moved his hands in front, palms down and hands curled loosely into fists, waiting to see if he'd done it correctly.

"Very good," Grantaire murmured, with a light touch to Enjolras' temple, and he was being thorough and profuse with the praise and touch today, and Enjolras couldn't decide if that was worthy of note or not.

So he kept silent, still watching with a faint tractability as Grantaire stepped over to pick up a coil of rope before kneeling down. It looked soft and treated, nothing that would leave harsh marks against Enjolras' pale skin, and it was a deep shade of purple, almost molted.

Grantaire nudged Enjolras' wrists apart slightly, look concentrated and intent as he started to wind the rope around his wrists, tying them together. And - there was a faint furrow, a frowning to his brows and mouth, and that felt off too.

Another pass of the rope around and Grantaire suddenly stopped, fingers twitching, a faint tremor in his hands as he stared at Enjolras' wrists.

"Red," he murmured, jaw tight, blinking a few times, rapid, his hands going into a flurry of motion, unwinding the rope much more quickly then he'd started to wrap it, something frantic in his voice. "I'm sorry, I need to stop, red."

"It's okay," Enjolras told him, shaking off the beginnings of dissociation along with the last of the ropes from his hands as soon as they were loose enough, frowning deeply as he started to reach up before he paused. "You don't have to apologize for safewording, Grantaire. May I touch you?"

The question got a perplexed look, but then a nod, Grantaire's hands still trembling faintly as he clenched them into fists. Enjolras reached up, cupping his hands around Grantaire's shoulders and then smoothing them down his upper arms, as steady and soothing as he knew how.

"Here," he said, leaning over to snag the edge of the blanket that had become Enjolras', pulling it over and snugging it around Grantaire's shoulders before touching him again, hand stroking over his jaw. "Are you alright?"

He snorted a bit of a laugh, hand tugging a little at the edge of the blanket, posture vaguely hunched in and expression amused even as he leaned ever so slightly into the touch of fingers skidding over his face. "Enjolras, what's this for? I'm not in shock, and I'm not cold."

Enjolras cocked a brow at him, then made himself soften before he could say something dry, repeating the caress. "No, but something upset you. Grantaire, are you alright?"

“I’ll be just fine, Enjolras,” he said, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I just… panicked, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Not what I meant,” he murmured, free hand reaching out to touch Grantaire’s arm, not quite sure what to do, because he’d never dealt with something like this before, but mind surprisingly clear and calm. “Alright. How about I put on some tea, and we can sit on the couch and talk about it?”

Grantaire nodded slowly, though he was wearing an odd expression again, fingers just brushing the back of Enjolras’ hand. “Yeah, okay. Are _you_ alright? Still with me?”

“I am, I promise.” He skimmed his knuckles along the line of Grantaire’s cheekbone, still trying to figure out how much touching was wanted or allowed. “No side effects. Would you like a minute to yourself, or would you like to come with me?”

“I can come. Enjolras, seriously, I am okay, you don’t need to take care of me,” Grantaire said, pulling back and getting his feet, letting the blanket fall back to the ground and looking at that and the rope before clearly deciding to leave them for later.

Sighing, Enjolras rose as well, studying Grantaire’s face, looking for anything more specific, more indicative than the faint, sad lines of unhappiness and discomfort. “Grantaire, you used the safeword. And I know that we hadn’t gotten very far in, but it means that something was seriously bothering you, which means that I am going to make sure that you’re going to have minimal fallout and that, when you are up to it, we’re going to debrief. Okay?”

“Okay,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair and looking away but nodding. He followed Enjolras back down the hall, going to sit on the couch, clearly preoccupied.

Enjolras watched him from the corner of his eye before going to make tea, putting the kettle on and frowning slightly. He wasn't sure, exactly, what the best thing to do would be. Grantaire was clearly unsettled, upset, and trying hard to ignore it, and Enjolras just wanted to coax him back down, make sure he was alright. But he would try.

Steeping the tea and making it up how each of them preferred, he went to join Grantaire on the couch, earning a hint of a smile when he accepted the mug from Enjolras.

"Come here?" Enjolras offered, gently touching Grantaire's shoulder and holding out an arm. He hesitated a moment before nodding, letting himself be pulled in against Enjolras' side, head resting on his shoulder. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"Can we just sit for a minute first?" Grantaire asked, his hands wrapped around his mug and his legs curled half under himself, sounding more tired than plaintive as he pressed a little closer to Enjolras' warmth.

Touch soft, he ran his hand over Grantaire's wild mess of curls, resting his cheek against his head as he held him a little closer and a little tighter. "Of course we can. Let me know when you're ready."

Grantaire hummed an acknowledgement, still looking down into his cup. But incrementally, he relaxed, slumping slowly back against him, and he let out a shaky sigh after a handful of minutes. "It's really stupid. I mean, I didn't just do it for kicks, but it sounds stupid."

"No, it won't," Enjolras murmured, hugging him a little tighter, a fierce protectiveness welling up. It was unsettling, this sudden surge of self-deprecation and lack of confidence, and it was strangely vulnerable, and Enjolras wondered if this was anything like what Grantaire felt when Enjolras was still lost in his head. No, probably not, but he wanted to bring him back up, to make Grantaire feel as secure and protected as Enjolras ever did. “If it upset you, of course it’s difficult to talk about, I’m hardly about to judge your emotional reactions.”

His nose scrunched up in faint consternation. “I do know that. It’s just that usually, in this setting, I’m supposed to have my shit together and under control. This feels like an emotions-discussion, and it’s making me feel like the wires have crossed.”

“Things do happen, on both sides of it. You’re allowed to back out because of emotional reactions.” And oh, it was more than that, wasn’t it? Enjolras caught Grantaire’s eye, holding his gaze. “If something bothers you enough to have you call things off, then it’s also perfectly acceptable to want and need support after. Even before we got together, it would have been, because we aren’t just partners, or dominant and submissive in certain contexts, we’re also friends, and in all of those roles, I am equally here to support you and make sure you’re alright as you are for me.”

“I know that, I do,” Grantaire told him, earnest and look softening, that little expression that said sometimes Enjolras just _amazed_ him and he never knew what to do with that, but it made his heart leap a little in a good way. “And I really do appreciate that, and you. I just need the reminder, sometimes.”

“That’s also something I’m here for,” Enjolras replied, sincere, and resumed running his fingers through Grantaire’s hair as he smiled just a little, a silent encouragement to go on.

Grantaire sighed again, nuzzling into Enjolras' touch a little more, letting go of his mug to trace designs on Enjolras' knee with one finger, a faint distance to his eyes, as though he was just so slightly absent, pulled back to whatever had made him stop so cold. "I just... I looked down, and the rope was the color of bruises, and I knew that it wasn't, but it just made me think that I _could_ leave bruises on your skin. That even though I'm not drinking, haven't had a drink in ages, even when I'm paying attention and being so careful because you're _important_ and your trust is sacrosanct, I could _hurt_ you. I could leave bruises, or rope burn, or you could fall and break something, or something could _happen_ and I can't stop it."

"It's a risk. That's why we practice risk-aware consensual kink and why we have so many precautions," Enjolras said, trying for the same steady voice he used in discussions, stroking long fingers through Grantaire's dark curls, careful not to tangle. "And I think it's a very good thing that you used those safeguards when you realized that today wasn't a good day for you to engage. Was it the anxiety or did something trigger it today?"

"Like a textbook," Grantaire muttered, but it was affectionate and soft, not a rebuke, staying relatively loose as Enjolras continued the lazy, steady motion of his fingers. "A little bit of both, I think, honestly. I was a bit anxious today, and then just... the color of it. I know it's illogical, because I've used that rope before, but today..."

Enjolras hummed quietly. "You mentioned the drinking? Is it one of those days, too?"

Grantaire shook his head, turning his head a little more to hide his face against Enjolras' neck, sighing again, deeper and more worn out and stretched thin. Even with all of that, he was being honest and open, though Enjolras _knew_ it was still a struggle for him, so that was a good sign. "No, no, it's not that. It's... bad memories, I guess? Last time I did any of this before you, I was subbing. Didn't end well. I just... the thought of you losing trust in me like that, that I could lose you, and this, and everything…"

"But you didn't, and you haven't," Enjolras reminded him, pressing a kiss to the side of Grantaire's head, running a hand along his back soothingly. "Okay? We're so careful, and we talk, and we constantly negotiate. What would help you most?"

"Just this," he said quietly, still tracing little doodles over Enjolras' leg. "I know what you're saying, and it really does help, I promise, and this does too, I just need a little while to get over that. You know what my brain does sometimes, though I'm sorry it jumped in like this."

"I do know," he agreed, kissing the top his head next. "And it's alright. Take as much time as you need. And please, you don't need to apologize for that - sometimes it's going to happen, I understand. You handled everything perfectly."

Grantaire laughed, looking up at Enjolras at last, the touches of brown and green in his blue eyes as catching as ever, as welcome as the hint of amusement. "Next time, I'll try to catch it before we start. The last thing I want is me panicking and you in subspace. You've handled everything perfectly as well, just so you know."

Enjolras couldn't help but smile at that, wry and a little sheepish, but pleased. "I'm very glad to hear you say so. Honestly, I’ve been trying to channel you and Combeferre. Are you feeling any better?"

"Much," he agreed, leaning back against Enjolras again, shifting to be more comfortable. "A little jittery and anxious, still, but not as freaked out. And Combeferre is a good choice – very comforting."

He nodded, drawing a hand up and down Grantaire’s arm, hoping to ground him a little more. “Do you need anything to help with the anxiety?”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s not acute, or anything. I’m just a little restless, now. Normally I’d go out walking, but…”

“Don’t want to be alone right now?” Enjolras asked, keeping his tone delicately concerned.

Grantaire curled up one side of his mouth, somewhere between wry and bitter. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Quiet for a moment, he thought, scratching his fingertips lightly against Grantaire’s scalp and feeling him go even more relaxed at that. “In that case, how does lunch sound? I’m not nearly as good a cook as you, and it gets us out of the house for a while without worrying about the rest of it. A friend-date, as Courfeyrac would put it, not a real one, and you can make scathing commentary about the trite art on the walls while I get annoyed at the casually conservative conversation at the next table over.”

“You overly cautious dork,” Grantaire murmured, laughing quietly and squeezing Enjolras’ knee gently. “Yes, that would be nice.”

“… I may need to borrow a pair of real pants, though,” he added after a moment, tone thoughtful and just a touch dry as he continued. “Somehow, I don’t see yoga pants being appropriate lunch attire.”

He snorted, nudging Enjolras a little with his elbow. “I think you left a pair here at some point, I can go look. I’ll put on some real clothes too, while I’m at it.”

Grantaire leveraged himself up off the couch and paused, hand just touching Enjolras’ cheek, his look a little soft – quiet and guarded, but genuinely appreciative. “And… thanks.”

“Of course,” he said with a smile, watching Grantaire trot off down the hall. Rising as well, Enjolras cleared their untouched cups of tea and slipped back into Grantaire’s studio, silently folding up the blanket and setting it the chair by the door, doing the same with the rope once he’d coiled it back up before he nudged the mat on the floor over to the wall, snagging his water bottle on the way out. Clearing it up a little was the least he could do, and hopefully it would be enough to avoid sending Grantaire into another spiral.

He emerged to find Grantaire stumbling out of his bedroom, starting a little in surprise, dressed casually and holding a slim pair of dark jeans.

"Oh, hey," Grantaire said, smile a little sheepish as he offered out the jeans. "Turns out you did leave a pair here, though it's anyone's guess as to how. It's not like you run around without them."

"When in doubt," Enjolras informed him sagely, accepting the pants, "blame Courfeyrac. It's usually his fault, somehow."

"Ah, see, I usually blame Joly and Bossuet and Musichetta," Grantaire replied idly, with a look of mock-thoughtfulness. "Do you ever think we blame our friends too much?"

Enjolras scoffed quietly, pausing in the doorway to the bathroom briefly. "Never such a thing. I might, if I didn't know they blamed us just as much, if not more."

He could still hear Grantaire's brief laugh as he ducked in and closed the door, relief welling up at the sound. Changing and fixing his braid, he rejoined the other man, watching him tug a hat over his unruly curls - a new one, dark green this time. And when had he even started to pay attention?

But when Grantaire arched a brow in silent invitation and question, Enjolras merely nodded and followed him out the door. He didn't need to see Grantaire's hands slip into his pockets to realize that he didn't want to be touched, exactly, but it was a helpful reminder all the same as they walked in silence, Enjolras letting Grantaire take the lead through the streets without question or qualm.

And then, as they wended their way further from the apartment and the lingering reminder of whatever had been so discomforting, Grantaire glanced at him, and smiled, just a little, open and warm, and something in Enjolras uncoiled and relaxed for seeing it, their steps falling into thoughtless cadence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras finds that, once in a while, he slides deeper than intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory disclaimer here!
> 
> This chapter takes place after the last one by a couple of months. The warnings should be covered in the tags, but please let me know if I missed anything.
> 
> Sorry for the delay, and thank you all again for the responses. You're wonderful and I appreciate each and every one. 
> 
> As always, hit me up on [tumblr](http://www.sovinly.tumblr.com) if you want to say hi or ask questions!

Grantaire was speaking, words soft and smooth in a low tone, but Enjolras suddenly couldn't pick them apart.

He was too distracted, too overwhelmed by the tightness of his muscles and the press of the ropes what felt like everywhere. Looped around his thighs, keeping his legs bent under him, knotted around his torso and up his back, keeping him so still and straight and stiff, hands bound up above his head and he couldn't move.

It compressed him down, compartmentalized him, and Enjolras felt like he was straining against them, but he couldn't _move_ , didn't have so much as an iota of laxity in the ropes, and it was confining. He shut his eyes, trying to breathe, to slip into the quiet acceptance that normally came thoughtlessly and effortlessly, but today had eluded him from the moment he stepped through the door.

And then Grantaire's hand slid gently into his curls, tangling into a fist, tipping Enjolras' head just enough to get his attention, words so easy and undemanding, a comfort more than an order. "Stay with me, Enjolras."

Just like that, the net of ropes around him felt reassuring again, holding him and pressing him together where he felt like falling apart, a reminder that he didn't have control, was in someone else's control, and he looked up, the world swimming back into clarity again. "Yes, I know, I'm sorry, sorry."

"You need to stop struggling," Grantaire told him, pinning Enjolras in place under the heavy, firm weight of his gaze even as it lightened, just a touch, searching and delving deep like he could see straight through him. "Color?"

"Green," he answered promptly, because he hated this, hated the way stress constricted him so tightly, kept him from giving in and from _wanting_ to give in, but he trusted Grantaire to bring him down as hard as he needed, and he _needed_ this. "Green."

He hummed, pleased, loose grip turning into an easy caress before he pulled back again, and dropped into a crouch, hand not quite tight on Enjolras' jaw, two points of firm pressure, tight and insistent. "Then stop fighting. I need you to let go for me.”

A frustrated noise slipped high and tight out of his mouth, because Enjolras was trying, was trying so _hard_ , and he breathed through his nose, watching Grantaire's face as he slowly loosened each muscle, only realizing how tightly he'd been gripping the rope over his head when he forced his fingers to unlock.

It still wasn't enough, he knew it wasn't enough, and he suddenly wanted to snarl back against it, because he was _trying_.

Grantaire’s expression didn’t change, as steady as ever as he raised a brow, letting go of Enjolras' chin to brush his fingers over his jaw, eyes and touch so very, incredibly, amazingly gentle. "You've been stressed, yeah? More than usual?"

Reluctantly, slowly, Enjolras nodded, dropping his eyes and only barely keeping his shoulders from going tense again, because he hadn't wanted to let on how _exhausted_ he was, even now feeling the strong undercurrent of it, threatening to roar up and drag him down the minute he stopped, and he was so _tired_. "I... yes."

"You always take on such a heavy load, I know. Always pushing and pushing and pushing yourself to your limits." And it was said without reproach, which was almost enough to make Enjolras lurch against the ropes, breath catching ever so slightly, and he knew Grantaire caught it when fingers tapped his chin back up. "And you trust me to catch you, to hold you when you can't?"

"I do," he promised, wavering somewhere between petulant and vulnerable, even when he wanted to protest, in some part of his mind, that it didn't matter, it didn't, because he couldn't do it.

Grantaire smiled at him for that, but the next words were still a command, strong and insistent. "Then you have to let me take the rest of the weight, too. Let it all go, Enjolras. Give it up to me for now."

"I _can't_." It came out plaintive rather than angry, and he flushed sharply with shame, feeling the push of it against his chest, warring with the desire to break down. "I can't do it, it's not, I can't-"

"Yes, you can," Grantaire murmured, quiet and so steady, so assured, that Enjolras wavered, tension building in him like a tidal wave, awesome and terrifying. "I have everything, I have you. Let go for me, I know you can do it. Deep breath, then let it all out."

Slow, careful, Enjolras breathed in, held it all for a moment, and, eyes turned on Grantaire, he breathed out. All the tension balled up in his chest went out in a rush, muscles turning to water, frame running boneless as he slumped, feeling the lines of rope catch and hold him, strong and steady where his spine went to curve. The ropes caught, and held, and Enjolras didn’t expect the sob that dragged itself from his chest, making him jerk.

“Just like that,” Grantaire said, voice a pulling him back a little, full of an easy praise, and then, another note of expectation as he brushed a touch to the line of Enjolras’ spine. “A little more, now. You’re trying so hard, you just need to stop and let it happen.”

Another sob, and Enjolras stopped trying to hold it back, heaving gasps making him shake and shudder as he cried hard, sobbing because he couldn’t do anything else. It was such a relief, such a weight from his shoulders that he couldn’t stop weeping even if he’d wanted to, hot, messy tears spilling over his face as he gulped for air between sobs.

His arms ached from his weight, and his thighs burned faintly with tension, and his muscles protested each convulsion, but it was nothing, it was everything, it was so good, knowing that he’d stayed where he was supposed to, held his position, and even now the rope was making him hold it, surrounding and encompassing him and staying him, pressing lines into his skin, comforting rather than limiting.

Enjolras whimpered, keened quietly, noises slipping out in between each ragged little cry, falling freely and without embarrassment, high and needy. The press of the rope harness stung around his chest with each desperate inhale, a constant reminder, and under all of it, the faint pain and the discomfort and the sobbing and the blood rushing through his ears and the chafe of the rope through fabric, he could hear Grantaire’s voice.

It was constant, low and sure and even, taking up the space where his thoughts would be, one thing to hold onto as he broke down and fell apart and he didn’t need to worry, didn’t have to worry about any of it because Grantaire was there and Enjolras didn’t have to manage everything. He cried until everything stopped seeming so overwhelming, the fury and the exhaustion fleeing, and all he could feel was relief until suddenly it twisted gloriously into elated bliss.

Each whining breath drew out more tears, catching in his throat as he let the euphoria sweep him up and off, pure serenity washing over him because he’d done what had been asked of him and the horrible draining burden was gone.

Limp and pliant, he let his head loll forward onto Grantaire’s shoulder when he was shifted, burying his face against it as he let out another sob, only belatedly realizing that the rope was gone, his arms free. With effort, he shifted to cling to Grantaire, still sniffling as he started to focus on the feeling of fingers running over his scalp and a warm arm holding him tightly, blanket wrapped around him.

“… Were so wonderful, you did so well,” Grantaire murmured, his steady stream of praise slowly filtering through the giddy cloudiness in Enjolras’ mind. “You were so, so good for me, and you did so, so well. I know it was hard, but you did very, very well and I’m so pleased, I’m so proud of you. I’m right here, I have you. That’s it, just like that, keep breathing, nice and steady. Coming back up? There we go, just like that. Hi, there. I’ve got you, Enjolras, it’s alright, it’s okay.”

Snuffling against, trying to take another breath and gasping a little, Enjolras nuzzled against Grantaire’s neck once more before wearily pulling back, blinking at him heavily, eyes sore and stinging from the tears, voice sounding raspy and ragged. “Grantaire, hello.”

“Hello,” Grantaire repeated, combing tangled, sweaty curls back from Enjolras’ face, gentle as he pulled them away from his damp cheeks, petting them down and back. “How are you feeling?”

“… Okay,” Enjolras decided after a moment, eyes sliding shut as he leaned into Grantaire’s petting, drowsy and compliant. “I’m okay.”

“Sure?” he asked gently, bundling Enjolras against him a little closer. “It took you a while to come back up.”

“Mm-hm,” he reassured, dropping back against Grantaire and resting his heavy head against his shoulder, lethargic and slurring his words just a little. “Just need a minute.”

Grantaire hummed an agreement, settling Enjolras more firmly in his lap and still playing with his hair, talking just enough that Enjolras could relax and listen to it. His eyes slid half shut as he rested there, fingertips tangled up in Grantaire's shirt, only letting go to accept his water, sipping at it slowly.

And even when he'd drained it completely, feeling the faint tremors of tired muscles and the sweat on his skin going cold and clammy, plastering his shirt to his back, Enjolras didn't want to move, turning his face in against Grantaire even more, blocking out some of the light.

"Hey," Grantaire murmured, scrunching his fingertips lightly against Enjolras' head. "Can you tell me how you’re feeling? You're still shaking a little, Enjolras. Cold?"

"Mmn." He considered it, each breath still feeling too heavy and too raw. " 'M good. Little cold. Just... shaky. Sticky. ‘M tired."

"Ready to get up? You don't have to, it’s okay, there’s no rush, but usually you're about ready to crawl out of your skin for a shower." He shifted, cupping Enjolras' cheek in his palm and drawing his face up a little to look at him, brow furrowing just a touch as he smoothed his thumb over soft skin.

Enjolras let out a faintly distressed sound, then turned red, embarrassed, even as he leaned into Grantaire's touch, feeling needy and suddenly touch starved. He scrunched up his nose a little as he finally started to answer. "... It's unpleasant. I’d rather stay here, though."

"You're making the faces again, sweetheart," Grantaire told him, kissing his forehead lightly, the crease between his brows deepening marginally when Enjolras just held on tighter, conflicted and unsettled as he thought.

"... Come with me...?" he asked at last, voice hitching up uncertainly at the end, barely noticeable. "I want to get clean, but I don't want to be alone just yet."

"Hey, hey," Grantaire murmured, brushing a soft touch to his temple. "It's okay. Let's get you cleaned up and more comfortable, then something to eat or drink to avoid the worst of it, and we can stay together just as long as you need. Sound okay?"

He grumbled at the overattentiveness but nodded, burrowing tighter into Grantaire's hold, pliant when Grantaire slowly maneuvered him up to his feet and staying close as they slowly made their way down the hall to the bathroom. Enjolras felt dazed and dreamy, limbs loose and almost weak, half feeling like his muscles wouldn't cooperate as he wrestled off his shirt and track pants, slumping against Grantaire as soon as they were under the hot spray of water, wrapping his arms around him and resting his cheek against his shoulder.

"I've got you," Grantaire murmured, voice soft by Enjolras' ear, and Enjolras hummed in response, exhausted.

He only relaxed more as Grantaire worked shampoo into his hair, the press of his fingers soothing and steadying, clinical but warm all the same, and smiled at the quiet hint of a laugh that earned.

"Tilt your head back for me," he said after a minute, pull of his fingers an echo of the same, and Enjolras blinked, slowly, everything around him feeling so clingy and thick and distant, removed, like he was muffled to it, wrapped up in something warm and welcoming. But he obeyed, tipping his head back and closing his eyes, sighing softly at the feel of water sluicing through his hair, rinsing out the soap and washing away remnants of sweat.

It didn't take long for them to rinse off, but by the time Grantaire turned off the water and reached for a towel, Enjolras felt like he was easing back into wakefulness, catching the edges of the towel when Grantaire wrapped it around his shoulders.

"I've got it," Enjolras said, voice coming out a little creaky and hoarse, but he toweled himself off, nodding absently when Grantaire asked if he'd be alright while he went to get dressed. By the time he'd returned, Enjolras had managed to do the same, though he didn't protest Grantaire gently taking his wrists to soothe ointment over the chafed areas and check them over.

And normally he might, but the touch was nice, and felt good, and he didn't want to give it up just yet, content to let Grantaire take care of him just a few minutes longer. Not bothering to do more than pull his hair up off his back and neck, damp and heavy, Enjolras followed him out into the kitchen, draping himself against Grantaire's back as he opened the refrigerator. "You have a lot of things."

"I usually go shopping before you come over," Grantaire told him, hand pressing briefly against Enjolras' before he reached in to pull a few things out, snagging something else from the counter. "C'mon, over to the couch with you."

Humming an acquiescence, Enjolras stumbled after him, still feeling a little weak and fatigued, curling up against Grantaire's side as soon as they were seated, accepting the muffin and the juice he was offered, blinking again. "... Oh. I'm crashing a little, aren't I?"

"Just a little," Grantaire agreed, petting down his hair again, soothing and familiar, and Enjolras sighed softly, dutifully nibbling at the muffin and sipping at the juice, still settled by the slow run of fingers through his damp hair. “Feeling any better?”

“Mm-hm,” he agreed, though he didn’t pull away from Grantaire’s side. “Yes. That helped a lot, but…”

“Still a little bit under?” he asked. “Do you just want to stay here for a little while?”

Enjolras nodded twice and, when Grantaire nodded back, slowly worked his way into Grantaire’s lap, curling up and tucking his head under his chin, listening to the quiet, uninterrupted rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest.

He didn’t even realize he’d started to cry again until Grantaire pressed a kiss to the top of his head, hand smoothing soothingly along the line of Enjolras’ spine. “Hey, I’m here, you’re okay. It’s okay. You can cry as much as you need, but I’m right here.”

Shivering with the soft, breathy gasps, Enjolras pressed his face against Grantaire’s shirt, not fighting the hiccuppy sobs, hot and wet and close. He shook his head, curling up tighter still, unable to find words for the strange combination of letting out the faint remains of stress and tension and the relief, the joy at feeling so safe and tethered and vulnerable all at once.

Grantaire didn’t speak, just held him close and warm, rubbing small, comforting circles on Enjolras’ back, occasionally with quiet sounds of reassurance or murmurs of praise, not even stilling when Enjolras finally sniffled a little and went still.

Gently, slowly, Grantaire tipped Enjolras’ face up, wiping away the tear-tracks as he looked him over, concern etched over his features, cradling Enjolras’ face in his palms. “Did I push you too hard today, Enjolras?”

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head and blinking away the last few blurry tears. “No, it was good, I needed it, I really needed it. But it was a lot.”

“Okay.” He kissed his forehead again, calloused hands pleasantly cool against the heat of Enjolras’ cheeks. “It did seem like you were stressed out today. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Later, I think,” Enjolras decided. “Maybe. Right now, this is good.”

Grantaire nodded, slowly shifting them to stretch out on the couch, Enjolras still curled up between his legs and resting his head back down against Grantaire’s chest, hand curled around his shoulder. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah.” Enjolras was quiet for a long minute, arching his back into the press of Grantaire’s hand, falling loosely into the faint soreness of his muscles, tired to his bones but warm and content. Sighing deeply, he nuzzled a little despite himself, studying the play of light along the back of the couch. “It’s… easier now, to be vulnerable with you. I’ve worried so much about elements carrying over, but I know you’ll understand, in both settings, and I trust you to catch me after. It makes easier to loosen my grip, to let out all of the things I keep tamped down, even the things that are really hard to let you take. I feel really… really good right now, because I know you have me, but it’s also so raw.”

“Thank you for your trust,” Grantaire murmured, holding Enjolras a little closer and a little tighter, nuzzling back just a touch. “I know that it’s hard for you. And seriously, I will be here for as long as and however you need me. You went really deep – if you need to cry more, or to talk, or to be quiet and let me hold you, those things are all okay. You amaze me and you always do so, so well, even when it’s a harder day than usual. But you know that you’re allowed to tell me I’m on sensitive territory or safeword out entirely if you don’t want to go that hard and that deep, right? You believe I won’t punish you for it or be upset if you do?”

“I know,” Enjolras agreed, snuggling down a little more with a satisfied sigh, “and I do. That’s part of what makes it something I can do, because you’ll understand if it’s too much. And because I know that you’ll let me know if it’s not something you can or want to either. That after, you respect my boundaries and let me touch as much or little as I need until I come back up, too.”

“I’m glad.” He absently brushed back a few stray, near dry curls from Enjolras’ face, smile soft, his own dark mess of them sticking up at odd angles. “Very much so. You get chatty afterwards, you know.”

He hummed, closing his eyes. “Only sometimes. Sometimes I’m quiet.”

With a quiet huff of a laugh, agreeing, Grantaire just held Enjolras there as they lapsed back into silence, Enjolras slowly feeling the last traces of fog recede and fade away, leaving him in an easy contentment, languid and peaceful.

“… Talk to me?” he asked at length. “It helps, hearing your voice.”

“Yeah, of course,” Grantaire replied, hand slipping up to cup the back of Enjolras’ head, warm and solid. “Let me know when you’ve had enough or you’re feeling at all hungry, and I’ll get dinner together. I’d rather avoid the blood-sugar crash.”

“As would I,” Enjolras agreed with a faint hint of amusement, still keeping his eyes closed, focusing on the calm and stable pull of his breathing. “That sounds good.”

And it was, because this was nice, and easy, and Grantaire’s story was a steady stream that drew Enjolras along, lulling and comforting and undemanding, and everything in his mind for once felt so peaceful. It settled over him like some warm and well loved blanket, tucked away from the tumult of everything else, and he let himself smile, just a touch.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras isn't having the greatest of days; they decide to negotiate something light. For once, everything goes right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual disclaimer.
> 
> And we're at the last chapter, once again. It's been a little strange to return to this 'verse, but I've really enjoyed it, and thank you for indulging me. No warnings necessary on this one, but let me know if I've missed something.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your nice words and kudos and everything. I can't tell you how much I appreciate all of them and how much they mean to me. Thank you again!
> 
> As always, please feel free to come say hello, talk, or ask questions over on [my tumblr](http://www.sovinly.tumblr.com) or anywhere else you find me!

"Refreshing the news page every five seconds isn't going to make new stories pop up sooner."

Grantaire's wry comment made Enjolras huff in displeasure, smile dry as he sat back from his keyboard and looked over. The other man had one leg lazily stretched out on the coffee table, the other half crooked with his foot resting on the edge, sketchbook balanced on his knee, willingness to sit in silence and company until the time they needed to leave for the Musain apparently broken by Enjolras' frequent clicking and the clack of his keyboard.

"No, but at least it's something to look at," Enjolras replied, dragging his fingers through his loose mane of curls, sighing and slumping back against the couch. "Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and I are presenting the revised budget tonight, I told you that, but I keep wanting to check it over again, even though I know we've all done so and there are no errors."

He tsked softly, reaching over to lay his hand on Enjolras' knee, voice affectionate and understanding for all the teasing. "Perfectionist. What can I do that would help? Touching, tea? Tie your hands behind your back so you can't break your poor keyboard?"

Enjolras snorted, pressing into the touch ever so slightly. "I'd take you up on the last, but I'm not sure it would be enough to help, especially not when we have so long still."

Pausing, Grantaire tilted his head, thumb swiping gently over the curve of Enjolras' knee. "If you want to and if it would help, we can negotiate something light. Nothing that would take you too deep, but enough to take the edge off."

"It is appealing," Enjolras admitted, sitting up a little more, frowning thoughtfully. "Did you have something in mind? I know we have a while, but..."

"Nothing very specific." Grantaire hummed, tapping his pencil against the edge of his sketchbook, clearly thinking. "Maybe a few easy ties, nothing that would chafe or strain, just to quiet things down for you, maybe time your breathing if you need it. I wouldn’t push hard, mostly just focus on getting rid of some of the static."

"That sounds doable." He studied Grantaire for another long moment, considering. "It would help, certainly. The same safewords and signals as always?"

Grantaire nodded, squeezing Enjolras' knee again, confidence somehow lining him even as he leaned back casually against the cushions. "Of course, absolutely. Do you have any other requests or concerns?"

He pondered it, feeling the frown that had eased return. "... Nothing too stressful on my knees or thighs, since we're going out after. Other than that, I’ll leave the timing up to you. I just don’t want to go so far down that I can’t focus tonight."

"Okay." He nodded again as though making a note, mouth slowly curving into an easy, reassuring smile. "We can do that. I think you'll be okay in what you're wearing, but the jeans might not be comfortable with the rope. Do you want to borrow something? I'm not sure anything'll fit well, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

It was surprising how easy it was to shrug, Enjolras finding himself unconcerned, trusting and knowing that Grantaire wouldn't take it as an invitation it wasn't. "I'm wearing boxers. Those should be fine."

"Go ahead and get ready, then," Grantaire said, warm touch lingering a moment before he pulled his hand back. "Is it okay with you if we start in about two minutes?"

"Two minutes is fine," Enjolras agreed, coaxing Grantaire in to steal one last chaste kiss. Once he'd gone to set up, Enjolras shut down his laptop and tucked it away, rising to strip off his jeans and fold them neatly on the couch, removing his watch and socks for good measure.

The anxious jitteriness nipped and bit at him, and he took a slow, steadying breath as he rolled his shoulders back, trying to ease the nervousness a little. Silently, not bothering to dig through his bag for a hairtie as easy as this was going to be, he made his way back to Grantaire's studio, a little surprised to see the thick duvet from the bed tossed over the usual mat for extra cushioning. All the same, he didn't comment, keeling in the middle of it with a silent grace, hand clasping his other wrist behind his back as he looked up at Grantaire, waiting.

"I didn't even have to ask," Grantaire murmured, sounding pleased as he trailed his fingers along Enjolras' jaw and smiled, kneeling down as well, his own jeans switched out for soft looking pajama bottoms. "You always go down so effortlessly for me. We're going to take it easy today. Sit back with your knees bent up and your wrists crossed behind your back."

Enjolras did as asked wordlessly, keeping his ankles and knees close together, watching quietly as Grantaire reached for soft looking rope. He shifted obediently when Grantaire adjusted his ankles further apart, binding them loosely enough that Enjolras could shift if he needed to, before moving up to do the same around his knees, keeping his hands from brushing too much against bare skin.

Fingers pressing briefly against Enjolras’ shoulder, Grantaire moved around behind him, rearranging his hands before looping rope around his wrists as well, a little more and firmer, but still nothing too restrictive, testing them before moving back around.

“Give me a color?” Grantaire asked, fingers resting lightly on Enjolras’ jaw as he met his eyes, waiting patiently.

“Green,” Enjolras replied, word coming out on a soft exhale, feeling the anxiety creep slowly down his spine and away, leaving him with a blanket of calm anticipation.

That earned a smile. “Good. I’m going to tip you over on your side, just lean into me.”

Enjolras nodded, leaning easily into the press of Grantaire’s hands, ending up on his side, Grantaire shifting his legs so they were still bent slightly, leaving Enjolras in a loose, effortless curve. He sighed, quiet and slow, feeling the press of soft cotton against his cheek, relaxing at the now familiar smell of laundry soap, faint smoke, and _Grantaire_ , letting his eyes slip halfway shut even as he peered up. Despite the slackness of the ties that still felt strange against his skin, he felt immobilized, kept still under the weight of the implicit command not to move, willing his muscles to stay and to hold.

“Relax a little for me,” Grantaire said, stretching out on his side beside Enjolras, staying propped up on one elbow as he studied him, focused and attentive even as his look was tender. “Stay in that position, but breathe in, nice and slow – just like that – and hold it. Now out, just as slow. Good.”

He closed his eyes as he did, chest filled with the faintest hint of an ache on the exhale before he drew in another, feeling his shoulders curve as he settled into the position. It was warm in the confines of the studio, the late afternoon sunshine spilling across his hair and side, and that just made it all the easier to go limp and pliant on the floor, the rope brushing softly over his joints like a whispered reminder with each minute shift he couldn’t help.

"Perfect." The note of affectionate approval in Grantaire's voice pushed him just a little further, a little deeper, drained away a little more of the thoughts flitting from one thing to the other. His hand brushed back Enjolras' hair, thumb smoothing over his temple gently, and it was a relief and a comfort. "Keep your eyes closed, that's it."

Enjolras obeyed, content to lie there in the semi-dark, just breathing and feeling the fleeting touches Grantaire ghosted along his body. A brush of a hand over his cheek, lightly touching the back of his neck, his spine, his elbow, his hip, the middle of his back, a gentle encouragement to relax the muscles that stayed tensed without conscious thought. He gave himself over, just focusing on breathing, letting the world fall away as he felt himself relax at each touch, limber and loose on the duvet, the worn fabric so soft against his cheek and against his legs, and warm, and this was _intimate_.

It was so intimate, such a silent conversation even as Grantaire would murmur something soft or hum a praise, all Enjolras had to do was listen and respond to the whisper of expectation and let the loose lead of ropes keep him in place, mind whisked up as though on a light summer breeze, thoughtless and seamless, with only Grantaire's touch to tether him back down to the world and hold him back from going too far. Because Grantaire had promised, and wouldn’t let him wander too far, not enough to lose himself this time.

Enjolras felt boneless by the time Grantaire's hand settled on the top of his head, not petting, just resting there, mooring him.

"Open your eyes," Grantaire said, so quietly that it didn't seem to break the stillness of the room, and Enjolras blinked, eyelids fluttering a little as he readjusted to the light, focusing on Grantaire almost sluggishly, warmth sunk into his bones like sleepiness. "Go ahead and give me your color?"

"Green," Enjolras replied, the word slipping out like a purr from a pleased cat, blinking again languidly and breathing deep as reality clarified in delicate fractions.

Grantaire smiled, warm and open and adoring, his free hand settling on Enjolras' side, fitting against his ribs even through the fabric of his shirt, his eyes full of easy praise and easy control. "That's very good. Just stay like this, just a few minutes more."

Enjolras hummed out an agreement. It was enough just to focus on the warmth of Grantaire's hands – the slight shift of the one in his hair that made the curls tumble, the way the other rose and fell with his even, soft breaths. It was calm, and it was quiet, and it was peaceful, and it took up the space in his chest, just letting him be, just another minute more, every sense heightened even as the world seemed faintly hazy at the edges.

"Going to untie you now, you don't need to do anything," Grantaire murmured, running his hand up Enjolras' side before he sat up a little more, keeping his touch there as he moved over behind his back. "You look so good when you're relaxed, my dear, and I'm so proud and so pleased. You did perfectly, and I'm so lucky and so happy that you trust me so much. And I'm going to be right here, I'm right here."

As he spoke, he deftly undid knots and unwound the rope, massaging out Enjolras' ankles and knees even though they didn't so much as itch, doing the same to his wrists as well, and it was good, felt nice in a lazy little way, the touch of warm skin on skin.

"That was nice," Enjolras told him, speaking slowly, letting his mouth linger over the sounds as he stretched and shifted, rolling over and curling around Grantaire, looping an arm around his leg and snuggling in close. With something that wasn't quite trepidation, he looked up for belated permission, the world still blurred at the edges, like there was a thin fog clinging low to the ground, engulfing and surrounding him.

"I'm glad to hear that," Grantaire replied, grin a little wider now in reassurance and permission, his fingers threading through Enjolras' hair, petting and stroking in a familiar, soothing rhythm. "You seem much calmer. How are you feeling?"

"Calmer," he said, unable to help the way his mouth curled up at that, amused as he nudged his nose against Grantaire's leg, his head propped up on his free arm. "Just a little hazy, like I took a nap, but better. Not so groggy."

Grantaire smiled again, one that crinkled his eyes, and his unoccupied hand rested over Enjolras', rubbing soothing circles into his palm with his thumb. "That's very good to hear, too. Would you like to stay here like this for a little bit more?"

Enjolras nodded, curling still closer automatically and letting himself drift some more, just listening to the lull of Grantaire's quiet speech and the feel of his fingers, until he started to feel steady and even. Eventually stifling a yawn against the crook of his arm, he stretched out again, pointing his toes down as he extended his legs. He felt more lazy than submissive now, reaching up to tug almost playfully at the edge of Grantaire’s sleeve. “Come and lie down here with me.”

“What, not straight back to work?” Grantaire teased, sprawling back in what Enjolras would have called an ungraceful flop if he hadn’t noticed how careful Grantaire was not to disturb him or land on his outstretched arm. He propped himself up a little, expression tender and fond as he smiled at Enjolras, offering out his own arm in invitation.

“Mmn, not straight away,” Enjolras murmured, shifting to lay half on Grantaire, resting his chin on his chest and looking up at him, still feeling the slightly drifting thrill of contentment, low and warm in his chest. "Congratulations, I'm feeling much more relaxed. You've accomplished your goal, and I'm warm."

Grantaire chuckled, idly playing with a loose curl that had fallen along the curve of Enjolras' face. "So I see. But you're feeling alright? Not too detached?"

Enjolras shook his head. "Not too detached, just calm. I'm alright. I didn't go down too far; it was just a nice little break from everything."

"Was there anything that made you feel uncomfortable or pushed your limits for today?" Grantaire asked gently, his free hand a warm weight on Enjolras' lower back and his gaze equally weighty, serious and intent. "Anything at all, Enjolras?"

"No." Enjolras studied Grantaire, brow creasing a little as he did, trying to puzzle out the faint sense of urgency. "That was exactly what we'd discussed. Did it push any of yours?"

"It didn't," Grantaire promised, and though Enjolras wasn't far enough gone to need the prompt reassurance and the careful fingers threading through his hair, he appreciated them all the same. "I just wanted to be sure. I mean, we usually negotiate through writing and you have a little more time to decide what you want and need."

Enjolras smiled, smoothing a hand along Grantaire's side, fingers tracing the valleys and swells of his ribcage with just enough pressure to comfort rather than tickle. He wondered absently how he looked now, if the softness was anything like the tenderness and trust that would sometimes overtake Grantaire's expression.

"You're more thoughtful than you give yourself credit for," he informed him, feeling Grantaire relax under his touch. "And I appreciate it. I really am okay, I promise. I do prefer those conversations in writing, but I trust that you'll keep your word and I know that you won't push on any limits I’ve expressed."

Grantaire's fingers brushed down along Enjolras' jaw, warm and rough, and his look was unreadably soft, gentled in some way that Enjolras couldn't quite parse. "I'd ask what I ever did to deserve you, but I have a feeling I know what you’d say to that. Thank you, for your trust. It means the world to me, as do you. That said, I'm really glad this helped, but I think we'd both prefer discussions about anything more rigorous in writing."

"So it would seem," Enjolras murmured, leaning into the touch of Grantaire's hand, enjoying it, basking in the feeling of peacefulness for as long as he could, the once persistent shouts in his mind not even faint whispers; his concerns could be dealt with later.

Surprisingly, Grantaire grinned, lopsided and almost a smirk, and there was a hint of a sound that was almost a laugh. "You really are relaxed. Will we be staying here a while, then? That's okay with me, if we do."

"I'd like that." Enjolras ignored the comment that wasn't quite teasing, knowing it was more affectionate than anything else, and settled in a little more, feeling himself fit against the curves of Grantaire's body and closing his eyes. "This is pleasant. It's different than aftercare after a larger scene, but different from cuddling at other times, too."

There was a huff of a breath that suggested Grantaire thought there was something amusing about that, but he held his tongue, humming quietly as he resumed petting back Enjolras' hair.

They stayed tangled up together for a while longer, spread out comfortably on the duvet without complaint or conversation, and only moved when the sun started to shift off of them and Enjolras looked toward the clock. Accepting Grantaire's hand up, Enjolras rose, and took the duvet to remake the bed while Grantaire coiled and replaced his ropes.

Fixing his hair and putting on the rest of his clothing felt even more like leaving that carved out space of quiet, and he found he missed it. Maybe that was what had him leaning against Grantaire's side as soon as he sat on the couch, or maybe he'd gone a little further than he'd intended to, Enjolras couldn't quite say for sure.

Either way, Grantaire didn't complain or protest, just wrapped an arm around him and smoothed his hand along Enjolras' upper arm, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, something small and sweet.

"Thank you," Enjolras said, slumping against him even more. "For today and for everything."

"Yeah, no problem," Grantaire replied, somehow managing to make the words sound more sincere than dismissive. He smiled. "Thank you for the same. You make me feel so lucky."

Enjolras considered that a moment, crossing his legs to sit more comfortably.

"I think we’re both lucky," he said at last.

“You’re just saying that because I promised I’d make you a curry tomorrow,” Grantaire teased, but he seemed to smile with every part of himself when Enjolras snorted softly and pressed a hint of a kiss to his jaw.

“Only partially,” he teased back, feeling much more like himself but not as tempted to fidget with numbers as he had been, serene and light.

He was still tired of course, worn down by the long week, but it was easy to let the conversation lapse and lull into familiar silence. There wasn’t much of an ache after today, no chafing left by the lax ropes, and no sense of catharsis that burned him down to his bones and built him up, but he was warm, and he was content, and he felt comfortable, here in this strange and in-between place he couldn’t quite articulate. It made him smile and because they didn’t need to leave just yet, Enjolras reached over to take Grantaire’s hand in his own and twine their fingers as he let that serenity be everything, just for the moment.


End file.
